


Beyond the Lights

by tellers



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Custom Shepard (Mass Effect), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Mass Effect 1, POV Garrus Vakarian, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 17:24:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16520753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellers/pseuds/tellers
Summary: Garrus drives Shepard through the Citadel to visit the Council. Set during ME1.





	Beyond the Lights

Garrus looks at her through the rear-view mirror and for a moment he finds himself wishing he was someone else.

Without the burden of time pressing on his shoulders and a future filled with uncertainties, he could do something other than just sit there with his talons on the wheel and his heart heavy. It’s too dark for him to see her expressions change, but it doesn’t take more than a few flashes of the bright lights of the Citadel for him to catch the way she’s leaning back against the seat, her dark eyes staring blankly at the changing scenery on the other side of the window.

He doubts she sleeps between missions. There’s a difference between the woman sitting on the backseat now and the commanding officer that demands respect wherever she goes. The way her eyes are scanning the Citadel and the skycars passing has something hollow in it; something mournful boiling just beyond the surface. She’s tired, she has to be, but Garrus knows it’s not his place to speculate.

It’s a long drive from the dock but the both of them stay quiet, as if they know there’s nothing to be said and nothing to be commented on.

The line of her spine rests uneasy against the seat, the usual confidence hidden somewhere beneath the uniform she wears whenever she’s visiting the Council. The sharp line of her jaw casts a shadow over her neck, her side profile somehow even more statuesque in the pinks and blues that pierce the glass of the window. Maybe it's all about contrast, he thinks; all about the impossible slowness of the Citadel and the sense of urgency surrounding her wherever she goes. She doesn't belong against bright lights like this and it shows.

Garrus stops the car and with a deep breath Shepard reaches for the handle, getting ready to exit the car and disappear into the massive building to be, no doubt, yet again judged by the Council. 

He knows he should let her go, just like he’s done for a few months now with practiced ease and professionalism he’s supposed to upkeep, but just like he’s let his guard drop; let her crawl somewhere between his soul and skin; he turns on his seat and parts his mandibles to speak.

“I won’t ask,” he says, finding his cold palms turning fidgety, as if they know his place better than his head does. Right now his place is between the seat and the wheel and later behind her back on the battleground; his lips sealed and mind set on nothing but doing what he’s been assigned to do. He left C-Sec because all it did was restrain him. He left to go on a manhunt through the galaxy under her command, always there to watch her six. Maybe that’s what it all is, in a way. Protecting. Protecting her when she’s busy protecting everyone else. “But I’m here.“

She doesn’t reply, but the brief eye contact tells him more than any string of words could. She’s always been good like that—showing glimpses of things she doesn’t want to show, but that can only be caught if you know what you’re looking for. He hasn’t figured her out, and somehow he has a feeling it’s not something that’ll ever happen. 

She’s a labyrinth of something he can’t quite touch, but every now and then she reaches for him and he finds himself sucked back in. If those old tales of labyrinths and women holding red strings to guide people through are true, she’s holding a red string that he’s just barely caught a hold of.

Shepard turns her eyes away and climbs out of the car, pushing the door closed behind her and continues to walk to the front doors without looking back. Garrus watches her presence change, the edges of her sharpening back to the woman who’s there to rewrite history on her own terms. Her gait is strong and her muscular forearms, exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of her uniform, end in tightly wound fists of resolute determination.

He knows it’s not his reassurance that brought this, because it’s not the first time he’s seen the change happen.

She’s there to fight her way through another day; another battle; another argument. She's there to be what the galaxy needs her to be, even when every fiber of her body is weary of the battles past. 

 

* * *

 

 

_(_ _The next time he cradles her in her cabin she presses herself closer than before, and he thinks that must be her winding the red string around her finger just a bit tighter. She’s closing the distance and even if she’s still miles away, as Garrus slides his hand to her back, his talons gently tracing the line of her spine, the questions of what he should and shouldn’t do disappear._

_Even if just for that passing moment in a dark room and a woman like a legend in his arms. )_


End file.
